Page 24 of Dirty, Bruised Martini
The tip of your satin finger brushed across my mouth when I told you I’d stop. Say the word Giselle, and I’ll fucking stop everything for you. But you didn’t seem to want to hear my promise. Maybe you just wanted us like we used to be. I was going to give that to you. To us.
I’d never forgotten how sweet you taste. I’d imagined your honey in my mouth so many times. After four long licks with a flat tongue your free hand was in my hair. After three nips of my teeth on your rosy clit, your moans were in the air. After two fingers dragged through your arousal and caressing your favorite spot, your ass was off the bed. Shoving my face deeper into your glorious heaven.
You cried out your release. Arching up to come on my tongue and weep to the ceiling. With pleasure. Relief. Exhaustion.
Thank fuck you didn’t roll away when I crawled next to you. Even better you curled against me. Burying your head in my chest and sliding your hand onto my back. Clinging to me while you sobbed. I stroked your silky hair and kissed the top of your head until you settled down. Until the bond between us was no longer broken.
I think about him when you tell me we’re having a dinner guest.
Emilio Ricci. An enemy eager to become an ally now that he’s risen up to take the place of one of the men you killed while searching for me. You’ve told him you’re open to hearing him out and agreed to share a meal together. Reflecting your willingness to consider his offer of partnership. Only because his company can benefit yours. No regard as to whether the opposite is true as well.
I don’t want to go. You told me I didn’t have to. But I want you to be proud of me. To think I’m strong and brave and whole. All the descriptions you believe of me that I’m not sure I believe of myself. That I’m not sure are really true. Or ever will be.
You assure me I’m safe. That you’ll never allow me to be alone with him. Won’t permit him to speak to me. Refuse to let him scare me in anyway.
So I smiled and nodded and feigned acceptance. After all you’ve done for me, surely I can manage eating one uncomfortable meal for you.
All I could think about was that bastard when Emilio said he could see why I’ve been hiding you away from everyone.
I’m so fucking sorry Giselle. I swore I would always shield you from the violence. Never expecting to expose you to my wrath in our own fucking dining room.
But I came unglued when he insulted my intelligence and disrespected you. So furious I don’t even remember flying across the table and shoving my fist down his throat. Pounding into his face long after he was dead. Until my guys pulled me off, and I found Sampson carrying you down the hallway. Protecting you from Emilio. From me. From the memories of him.
I fucked up. I should never have let him into our home. I should never have asked you to join us. I should never have killed him so quickly and with so little pain.
I know he thought you were beautiful. Hell, no man with a working dick could think otherwise. The first comment was out of respect, in your honor, conceding to me as the boss with an amazing woman by my side. When he said you were gorgeous, I swear I almost got fucking lost in your blush. I loved that you were realizing how magnificent you are to everyone including me.
The second remark was a fucking death wish. A smarmy insinuation I couldn’t allow. An outright blatant stupid innuendo when he teased what a fool I was for keeping a woman as alluring as you all to myself. Pathetic motherfucker had to be fucking crazier than I am to ever think I’d offer you to him. But now he and the entire fucking underworld know exactly what I think about his suggestion. His annihilated face evidence of the consequences if any other bastards think you will ever be shared.
I think of him when I can’t stop your suffering.
You’ve been beating yourself up for three days. Even though I’ve sworn to you that you don’t deserve it. That I’m okay now. That yes I was shaken up but I understand why you did what you did. I know I’m safe.
I won’t lie. I’ll admit I was terrified. I’ve never seen you like that. Almost as if it wasn’t you. Only a hint of you perceptible in the rage. The man I love lost to his fight and his fists and his fury. Such a contrast to your treatment of me.
But when you caught up to us as we raced away from the attack, you were you again. Snatching me out of Sampson’s arms. The bodyguard smart enough not to fight you. We strode in silence to our bedroom until you dropped down on the bed. Peppering me with apologies as you cupped my face. Searching my expression for fear. Examining my body for injury.
When the only thing hurting me was my heart. Then and now. You think I still blame you for my kidnapping. You think I don’t trust you. You think I don’t believe that you’ll always protect me.
Except that I do. I absolutely do. Now, I had to prove it.
That’s why I somehow found the courage to confront you while you stewed in your office. Lost in thought, your fingers tapped erratically on your MacBook. Until I climbed on your lap and they instantly wrapped around my waist while I sank against your chest and whispered in your ear, “Doesn’t he knowyou’rethe boss? That he should be the one presenting gifts to you? Instead of expecting you to offer them to him?”
Harsh breaths blew on my shivering neck, and the hard bulge growing under my butt made me realize I’d more than reassured you. I awakened my beast. Dormant while I recovered; yet, always lurking under the surface. Ready to come alive for me again.
The contents of your desk crashed to the floor before I could stop you and I was on my back with your head between my legs. Tears piercing my eyes from you holding my hand. Even in your urgency you made sure I knew you were there with me. You weren’t out of control. You weren’t him.
But I knew. I’ve always known. Because you always give. Never just take. And, God Kane, did you give me everything. Your evening scruff tickling my already sensitive skin as you buried your nose in my panties. Breathing me in through the fabric. Inhaling the essence already dampening the silk from your possessive growl.
I used to be embarrassed how quickly and easily I’d come from your touch. Your tongue. Your teeth. But you’d just grin your wicked grin and smile against those wet lips. I lost myself again as your enormous palm pushed my thigh farther, wider than I thought possible. Opening me so far and dirty and blatant for you. When you sucked in my clit, I didn’t care any more about anyone or anything else but you doing it again.
I grasped at the slick surface with my shaking fingers. Trying to keep from sliding off the other side of your desk from the power of your attention. The force of your determination to getting me off. Luckily your free hand snaked up my body, over my stomach, and between my breasts to hold me in place. I flinched when I didn’t need to. I should have known better. You knew I wasn’t ready for you to circle my throat like you used to, I welcomed the warmth and weight of your forearm on my chest. Keeping me safe but without any intention of squeezing me.
You demanded I let go and I did. Crying out your name and God and mercy until I collapsed against the wood. You kissed my mouth hard and final before scooping me up. Reminding me again as you carried me to the bedroom that you would never let me regret giving myself to you.
I do feel regret though about your damaged iPad. Guilty from the screen cracking after slamming onto the floor with such intensity. I guess I know what I’m getting you for Christmas.
I think of your dripping pussy when I swear I can still taste your essence on my tongue.
